29. Blame

1864 OCTOBER 19, WEDNESDAY

29

The room was dark. Blinking and rubbing my eyes, I cleared my vision to see I was in a spare room at the Chisholms' house. I winced at the bruise on my cheekbone. Chills racked my body. I pulled the blankets to my chin. I did not dare close my eyes again in fear of seeing Ethan's face. I could still feel his hands on me. And hear his harsh voice ringing in my ears. Tears rolled down my cheeks, gathering in my hair. The shivering would not stop. I hugged my legs to my chest. Nausea rolled over me in waves and I leaned over the bedside, thankful for a washbasin left with rags and murky, red water to catch my vomit. I collapsed back against the pillows. Why can't I stop shivering?

A knock sounded on the door, and I pulled the blankets up to my face, attempting to muffle my sobs.

"Ella?" asked Mrs. Chisholm. "May I come in?"

"We need to take her home, Mama," Clara said.

"Shush, dear. Let me have some time alone with her." Mrs. Chisholm knocked once more. "Ella, may I come in?"

Despite my lack of response, Mrs. Chisholm opened the door, shutting it behind her.

"Ella?" She approached the bed. "I'm sorry this happened."

I was sorry too. This was all my fault. Ethan did this to their town because of me.

"Did he …" She fiddled with a pleat on her dress. "The Rebel. Did he force himself on you?"

I closed my eyes and put my hands to my face, sobs escaping.

"He did not succeed. This is all my fault," I cried. "I'm so very sorry. I should know by now, wherever I go, I put other people in danger. He found me. He brought them here. I'm so sorry."

"What do you mean, he found you?" Bewilderment cut through her concern.

"I'm sorry, it's my fault. I need to go home. I have to go back to the Mathis house."

"I don't think that can be done right now. You need to stay here."

"Please, Mrs. Chisholm, please. I shouldn't be here! I have to leave."

"Rebels are still in the streets. We must wait till it's safe."

A hard knock pounded on the door. "Mama!" Brett called. "Open the door, Ma!"

Mrs. Chisholm hurried to the door, opening it a few inches. "This needs to wait."

"The Rebels were chased out of town, but they got away with money they robbed from the bank."

"The bank! Oh, dear! What about the smoke we saw?"

Brett gave a short chuckle. "Mostly from Greek fire that failed to ignite the town."

"Praise the Lord."

"That Southern sympathizer no one really liked, Morrison, was shot, and one other gentleman. And one Rebel was killed. His body was found floating in Sheldon Creek. The rest of the Rebels burned a hay wagon on the bridge. The whole thing is aflame to keep us from following them across the Canadian border. Captain Conger's on furlough and is in pursuit with several townsmen. He's capable. He'll arrest them before they escape with Federal dollars."

"Who would have thought? Here in our own town."

"The town is safe now. How is she?"

In the dark, I could see Mrs. Chisholm shake her head.

"Brett," I cried out to him. "I need to leave!"

Mrs. Chisholm turned from the door. "No, Ella, you shouldn't leave yet. I don't think you are well enough?—"

"I need to leave. Please, Brett, please take me home," I pleaded, sitting up in bed.

Brett pushed past his mother and came to my side, grasping my hands.

"Are you all right, Ella?" His eyes went hard when he saw my cut and bruised face. "I should have never allowed you to accompany us to the cabin to bring back the horses."

"Please, Brett. Don't blame yourself. It's my fault this even happened to St. Albans."

"Of course not."

"He came because he heard from John Mathis I was here."

Brett's eyes went round. "What? Why? John would've never exposed that information to a Rebel."

"He was forced … tortured. And that man wasn't just any Rebel. It was Ethan Harris."

"Ethan Harris? The man you were betrothed to?" Even in the dark, I could see Brett's jaw muscles flicker.

He had a right to feel angry.

"John? He's still alive?"

"Ethan …" My tongue was thick in my mouth. "Ethan, he said …"

The cut on my lip burned with the taste of salt. I deserved the pain. I wanted to feel it all. The Mathis family would never forgive me.

"What is it? What did he tell you?"

Somehow, I managed to break the words from my tongue. "He said John didn't survive. Ethan broke him … to get to me." The truth settled over me like a wool blanket, scratchy and suffocating. I squeezed my eyes shut, fresh tears cascading down my cheeks. Brett brushed them away.

"Shh, my angel." He brought me into his arms. "Everything will be well."

It was a lie. To soothe me, to dismiss the truth. I shook my head. "What do I do, Brett?" I asked him, helpless.

"Let's take you home."

I leaned out of Brett's embrace. "Oh God! What am I going to tell Mrs. Mathis? I don't think I can tell her that her son is dead." My hand flew to my mouth. "And Ethan? Is he still alive?"

"You shot him, Ella."

Was Ethan the body that was found in the creek? That had to be a fatal blow. I'm glad I did it.

"Come, let's take you home."

Brett lifted me from the bed. My arms wrapped around his neck.

Mrs. Mathis said nothing. Her face was bleached of color. Her dark eyes stared, stupefied, as she listened to what I managed to tell her. Nora joined in my sobs while we huddled in Mrs. Mathis's bedchamber late into the night.

"I knew John would never live a long life," she said woodenly, more to herself than to us.

My dress and stockings were still torn, and my knees scraped the floor as I knelt beside her, begging her pardon. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Mathis. I'm so sorry. None of this would have happened if I hadn't come here. I brought this here."

"Don't you dare blame yourself for the wrongs of men. I will not hear another word. It's late, and we all need our sleep."

She brushed my cheeks, offering a compassionate smile, and I stood up and released her hand. Sleep was the last thing I wanted.

I knew what I would see as soon as I closed my eyes.